Punching Brides and Kicking Ass
by LucifersPudding13
Summary: Jenette Vasquez and Mark Drake, from their first meeting in Juvie to the amazing friendship and comradeship they share, to their possible developing romance. Rated M for bad language and sexual themes, and general badassery. Drake/Vasquez. Characters from Aliens.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Do you wanna say that again you motherfucker!" Vasquez roundhouse kicked the offending boy directly in the stomach, sending him flying to the ground.

"Jenny please stop! He was only making a joke." Her sister Carmen screamed, holding onto her arm in a death grip, in constant danger of falling off.

"This little shit new exactly what he was saying!" She kicked him while he was down, not stopping even when she heard moans. "Cabron! She's fucking eleven you pedophile!"

"Jenny, Jenny." Her sister was sobbing, pleading with her. "You'll get in trouble."

The man on the ground started weeping. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I won't say it again, plea-"

"Like bullshit you won't!" She spat on him. "I've heard some shit about you, Meyer, always getting away with shit 'cause of your mommy and daddy." Sneering Vasquez continued. "Pudrete en el infierno!"

It was morning, and Jenette and Carmen Vasquez had left their dilapidated apartment block. She always insisted on walking her sister to her elementary school, then continuing on to her junior high, it didn't matter if it made her late every morning, walking the extra distance, she never failed to do so.

For a fourteen year old, she was well aware of her surroundings, Jenette knew her area of Lincoln Heights, L.A was not the best area to live in, but she really didn't have a choice. Both her parents were Mexican immigrant part time workers trying their hardest to get by in a shitty economy.

While she was well aware of the world around her, her sister was the exact opposite, ditsy and well meaning, Carmen Vasquez was in Jenette's opinion, 'too sweet for the world to handle'.

Carmen got all the looks, while Jenette got all the bite. More like Carmen actually cared about her looks, while Jenette couldn't give the slightest little fuck.

Which was how she got into this situation. Carmen left the apartment early while Jenette was still changing, running into the twenty year old William Meyer, smoking a cigarette, in the process. But because she was so polite and young, she didn't just brush him off when he started making lewd comments about her, she stopped to listen.

When Jenette finally made it out of the building, calling out to her sister, she found her pressed up against a fence with the spoiled rich bastard in question leaning up against her.

"Mhh Hmm, Carmen, for a wetback, you sure have a nice ass."

Jenette saw red.

Which was why she was in the current situation.

When someone finally noticed that the 'concha' getting beat up by a fourteen year old was actually the landlord's son, they called the cops, who had to drag the little girl off the curled up pile of shit on the floor.

His parents were not happy to say the least.

Neither were the Vasquez couple when they were promptly evicted from their apartment, to try to find a new one cheap and willing to take the 'hijo del diablo' as Jenette came to be known in her community.

They couldn't even find a inexpensive lawyer keen to take her case. Luckily papa Vasquez was originally, back in Mexico, as close to a lawyer as they could possibly find. As the former office clerk of a prominent company that spent most of their days proving (bribing) that their company did not, in fact, mix lead into paint used for baby's cribs, in order to stretch the pigments, he had a lot of experience with how court functioned. Basically, wear a suit, and stand up straight, and pray that your client does not say anything stupid.

Makes one wonder if he even knew his suit-clad daughter.

So when Mrs. Meyer accused Jenette of practically castrating her son with her foot, she exploded telling Mrs. Meyer, in Spanish, that she could, something along the lines of, take her impotent son shove him up a donkey's arse, then get fucked by the said donkey.

Unfortunately the judge had taken an course in Spanish while doing his undergraduate.

She was promptly sentenced to Juvie until she turned eighteen.

Funnily enough when a year later, Meyer raped a twelve year old from a prominent military family, getting her pregnant, even after he was accused and shipped to the Fiorina 161, no one thought to review Jenette's case.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Warning: Really bad snarky language**

Mark Drake could smell the piss.

Oh boy could he smell it.

And for the second time today he pondered in his fifteen year old little mind why, oh why did he drive that car.

His neighbor's car.

Without his permission.

More like, why did he get caught?

He thinks he needs better, less wimpy friends who didn't run away but instead extracted him from the wreckage. After all there is probably no better place to find some tough ones than juvie. If he could just get over the smell of piss.

Growing up, middle class in suburban L.A was not the worst fate a young boy could have, his brother seemed happy enough, but Mark Drake was just too darn bored. He lived for the cheap thrills, and the more expensive ones, like crashing his neighbor's Lexus into a freeway divider, after attempting to drag race. His mother cried, and questioned, 'why he couldn't be normal like his brother the lawyer.' To which he replied 'he had no intention of having a stick permanently lodged in his ass'.

Today was bathroom duty for him, and unfortunately the boys here could not aim, at all. He wished he had a biohazard suit, and proper gloves, after all juvie conditions in 2164 were not very pleasant.

Suddenly he heard the door to the bathroom being slammed open around the corner, invariably someone ignored the out of order sign.

Drake, threw down the sponge and slowly rose to his feet, shouting in the direction of the entrance, "Oi! Can't you fucking read? It's out of order asshole, go piss somewhere else!"

The scuffling sounds continued. He walked over and rounded the corner, only to see two older kids holding a squirming figure in their arms.

"Hey! What's going on here?" He questioned.

"This fucking little bitch spat in my face, We're just gonna beat her up a bit, teach her a lesson." Grinned one of the boys, "Get out of our way, she's going for a nice swirly."

Drake looked down at the tiny figure the boys held by the hair and around the waist, she was cussing up a storm in what he assumed was Spanish.

"Carbron! Merde! Let me go! No me jodas!" She screamed wiggling.

"Let her go, she's just a little girl." Drake stated pityingly looking at the waif.

She looked up at him, with big black eyes, opened her mouth and uttered something he was not expecting, "Hey! Fuck you too! 'Little girl?' Huh? I'll mess you up!"

Drake broke into a huge grin. He really liked her. In all his fifteen years he had never met a boy, let alone a girl who was this spunky.

Turning to the boys, he in all his scrawny pubescent self, said, "Hey, shitfaces, I bet you look so ugly because your mamma once fucked a goat."

He waited for that to sink it, and for shit to fly.

"What did you say?" One of the boys asked stupidly, because he probably really didn't understand what Drake was implying, fortunately the other boy got it in a few seconds.

"I'm gonna fuck you up, man!" He swung at Drake with a large fist.

If his middle class upbringing thought him anything, it was dodging bullies.

Drake ducked under the large arm flying towards his face, and brought his fist up to smash the boy's nose, he promptly fell to the floor, clutching his nose, eyes watering.

The other boy was so startled that he dropped the girl, and let go of her hair.

Which was when she jabbed her knee into the his jewels.

Grabbing Drake's hand she pulled him out of the bathroom, and took off running down the corridor.

Only when they finally reached her cell block, did they stop for a breather. The girl opened her door, and pushed him into her room, slamming it shut, opening the peephole to check if they had run after them. Only when the coast was clear, did she close the cover and relax, sliding to the floor.

She looked up in relief at Drake, then burst into a fit of giggles.

And he thinks he finally found the tough friend he was looking for.

**They are just too bad. Btw please do not comment on why boys and girls can be in the same detention center together, I'm following how the franchise said they meet, and apparently it's in juvie. **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**The Alien franchise does not scare me, it just makes me bloody sad, because Ridley Scott always feels the need to kill off the best, well developed characters...darn...**

"So what's your name?" Drake questioned the girl.

Still laughing, she got up and walked over to the bunk where he was sitting and firmly shook his hand, "Jenette Vasquez, nice to meet you."

"Mark Drake."

She grinned. "Well Drake, I know you think you saved me, but Roy would have totally kicked your ass if I hadn't sacked him." She nodded knowingly. "He may not look it but he's a good fighter. And I'm guessing that since you didn't know that, you're new here?"

"Yeah, this is my first month."

"What are you in for?" She asked unabashedly.

"Grand theft auto." He stated proudly.

"Pshh, that's nothing." She snorted at him.

"What! That's pretty impressive. What did you do that's so deserving of praise?"

"I castrated a twenty year old pedophile." She said nonchalantly.

"No fucking way." Drake waved his hand dismissing her claim. "There's no way a ten year old could possibly do that."

"Hey! I'm fourteen!"

"Yeah and I'm fucking Santa Claus."

"With those eyebrows you might as well be." She looked him over. "What are you? A fucking albino?"

Drake touched his head sensitively, "I just don't tan well..."

Vasquez regarded him incredulously, "Anyway thanks for _helping_ me."

"If that's what you call saving your hide," He snorted, "You're welcome."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**Three years later**

"Jene! Jene!" Drake called out to the girl walking down the corridor, as he rushed to catch up with her.

No longer the puny boy, puberty hit him like a brick. At seventeen, constant trips to the detention center's gym contributed to the lean muscles that composed most of his physique. Although his hair was still as white blonde as ever, standing in stark contrast to the light blue of his eyes, a fact that Jenette never failed to remind him of.

Vasquez changed quite a lot too, the most prominent being her figure, no one could ever mistake her for a boy now, even if she did cut off shoulder length black locks.

The three years they spent together in what people called the most dilapidated juvenile detention center on Earth was, if anything, hectic. Their combined snark made them hardly any friends, and more enemies than anything else. But at least they had each other, and god knows they could handle anything the world threw at them.

Vasquez finally noticed Drake running after her, stopping to let him catch up. "Drake what are you training for if you already run that slow?" She placed her hands on her hips. "What's up?"

"I almost forgot."

"You think? You're a few days late."

"Happy belated birthday, Jene." He grinned. "You're sixteen, almost a woman."

He received a slap to his belly.

"Estupido." She frowned. "Carmen remembered a few weeks ago, and asked what I wanted, even though she sent me something I didn't ask for."

Drake laughed, "Then why are you wearing it?" He pointed at the bandana on her head. No matter what Vasquez said, she truly loved her sister.

"Shut up." Hitting him again, she blushed.

Rolling his eyes Drake broke away from the subject. "I have to give you something, but let's go to your room, this isn't something I can whip out in public."

Vasquez was scandalized. "Puta! I don't want to see your pequeno pito!"

Drake knew enough of Spanish to understand that.

He turned the colour of a fire engine. "That's not what I meant!" Then he realized something. "Hey! It isn't small!"

Later when they went back to Vasquez's room, Drake pulled out what he wanted to give her.

A Browning 9mm

"How the fuck did you get this in here?" She was flabbergasted.

"Oh, believe me, it was very difficult, you know Moran, right?" He whispered.

Vasquez leaned closer, captivated, "The Moran that got in here for stealing kidneys?"

"The same one." He nodded with a pained look on his face. "I traded him mine." He burst into a fit of laughter.

This time he got an elbow to his stomach.

"Fuck you, tell the truth."

Still laughing, "I bribed one of the guards."

"Shit? With what?"

"Access to my brother's bank account." He wiggled his invisible eyebrows.

Vasquez broke into a peal of uncontrollable laughter. And all Drake could think of was that he loved it when she laughed, because she giggled, and didn't appear to know it, it was so adorable in his opinion.

"How the hell did you manage to get his password?" She clutched her sides in pain, it was too funny.

"Pshh, that's easy, I know him, it's 'I have a huge dick'."

The entire cell block was filled with pealing laughter for the next hour or two.

**They are my OTP of forever.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**So a while ago I was informed by my boyfriend that I write fiction like I write essays (aka my writing is shit), so taking his advice I signed up for a class, with a wonderful teacher. Therefore here I am, a few months later, hopefully with all my tenses in order, better descriptive language, and some fresh new ideas. Critique Critique Critique.**

Jenette awoke from her sleep to the click clack of tumblers and the creaking of her cell door as it was pushed open. The sound was so unpronounced that her roommate still slumbered on, but Jenette was always a light sleeper.

She had been waiting for this day for months. Her hand tightened on the grip of the gun hidden under her pillow in anticipation.

Luckily concrete floors do not creak. So when Drake crossed the floor to her bed, the girl in the bunk above her didn't even stir.

Drake leaned on the desk opposite the bunk and waited for her. He didn't have to wait long. She was already pushing the cotton covers off herself, reaching underneath the bed for her nondescript shoes.

She was still wearing her pajamas, to which Drake raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes at him, and pointed above her to the other girl, mouthing "nosy." Jenette was going to wear her khakis to sleep, but the girl kept peppering her with questions, so she eventually consented and changed back into her pajamas. Nosy bitch.

Jenette tiptoed over to the desk chair and grabbed her clothes off the back. She didn't bother telling Drake to turn around as she changed, he wouldn't have anyway. When she finished, she took her pajamas and pillow and made a vague Jenette shaped mound on the bed, it wouldn't stand up to close inspection, but if her roommate got up in the night it would hold up to a sleepy eyed glance.

She turned to Drake mouthing, "Ready to tear it up?"

He grinned.

* * *

Either the guards didn't know of the existence of the monthly boiler room raves, or they simply didn't give a fuck, figuring that if the teenagers sweat off enough anger they would impart less trouble onto them; they were partly right.

Sometimes on the 23th of the month a kid would turn up dead in their bed, a dice toss between stab wound or asphyxiation on puke, more often the earlier than the later. But if that happened there would be less fights during the rest of the month, a win win situation for the guards. Sure there would be more paperwork, but less wounds among the guards.

The raves were always held on the 22nd, because the day after monthly maintenance of the pipes, plumbing, and heating systems would occur, so all the boilers were shut down the day before. Equaling pseudo air-conditioning in the normally roasty-toasty room. Which would eventually be substituted by writhing, heat-giving teenagers bodies, and if any of the workers noticed the rank smell of B.O the next day, nobody heard anything of it.

Normally Drake would not be caught at such a sordid affair, he preferred the rank of the gym, it smelt more satisfying than the noisy din of the raves. It was more of Jenette's scene. She went for the deadly cage fights, especially tonight's fight with a rumored particularly enticing reward.

As they walked down the dank silent corridor to the small metal door of the boiler room Drake gripped Jenette's clammy hand silently in support, only dropping it to bang on the metal door 4 times: 1 hit then 2, wait a few seconds, then 3 and 4. The door slammed open, releasing with it a cacophonic din of trance mixed with screaming, and shouting. As they strode in the bouncer Big Joe, who rightfully earned his nickname, slammed the fat heavy door behind them, leaving silence in the hall once again.

The circular room stretched up 100 feet filled to the brim with electronics and rusty pipes. On a normal day it would be too hot to bear, with all the steam and heat escaping the boilers, but because everything was shut off the fans blew cool air in from outside. All the emergency strings of incandescent lights were turned on, adding a tinge of yellow to everything inside.

Drake was lost to say the least, he hated social gatherings, even though this was so very far from his mother's Sunday afternoon lemonade and cookies jamboree as possible. He felt an arm slither around his waist, startling him, only to look down and see Jene grinning up at him with her famous crooked smile, she drew him with her into an alcove behind one of the larger pipes. From there metal webbed steps lead up the walls to higher levels used for the maintenance of the pipes.

she crooked her finger and drew his ear to her level. "We have to go greet someone before we can go out onto the floor, I've been ignoring his summons, so he might be a tad bit pissed."

Drake nodded his head quizzically.

As they passed people on the way up, lounging on the bars and leaning against the walls, Jenette nodded her head at a few of them, scowling at others. When they finally reached the top, where the electronics panel of the boiler room was located, a ratty sofa sat in the corner, surrounded by a few reclining girls and a couple of ripped men that looked like they did not belong in a juvenile detention center, but in an actual jail.

Jenette whispered to him, "Stay here, no matter what, I can handle this."

She let go of Drake's waist and strode right up to the couch, to the only boy that looked out of place. The boy's eyes followed her all the way.

With his skinny form and silk black suit he did not fit in with his sweat clad jumper wearing crew. But he stood out from them all, very distinctly, with his hair and eyes that reminded Drake too much of his own. The only difference between them was complexion and physique, while Drake was tanned and lean muscled the boy on the couch had the consistency of a parsnip, along with the coloring of one, he looked long, thin and washed out. But Drake could tell that he held power over the group by the way the gravity among them was centered on him.

He wondered how the simple Jenette could hold his attention.

And he realized, because she was not simple. She carried herself the way the boy did, strong and true. For her small stature, she was powerful.

The boy held out his hand to her, and she placed hers into it.

"Morozko, it is wonderful seeing you again." She smiled politely.

"Dear _Kotyonok_, why have you not come to visit me, I have missed your wonderful company, and entertaining stories." The boy expressed in a thick Russian accent.

"I have been busy these few months, preparing."

"For what. my dear?" He furrowed his eyebrows, then all of a sudden he laughed, sending peals of laughter all around the room, everyone, Jenette and Drake included, stiffened.

Still giggling he wiped tears out of his eyes, "_Kotyonok_, you cannot mean that! Why should you harm yourself in that way." He sighed rolling his eyes, "Come sit here by me, where you belong."

Jenette stood up straighter. "Morozko, I thought we discussed this..."

The boy suddenly appeared in front of her, and bent down to look in Jenette's eyes, to her credit she did not even flinch, even though Drake did not catch him move from the couch. He was just suddenly there.

He dragged his long thin fingers along her cheekbone, moving his lips to her ear, whispering something unknown to her, to which she nodded. The pale boy smiled with his lips, the grin, not reaching his eyes, as he floated back down to the couch.

Jenette swallowed and licked her lips.

Morozko stared at her, his eyes hungrily following her every move. Without taking his eyes off of her, he pointed at Drake asking, "Is he your second?"

She nodded.

With a poker face he turned to Drake mockingly saying, "I hope you have trained her to protect herself properly, or there will be hell to pay..." He left that hanging in the air.

Drake swallowed and raised his courage, "She can take care of herself."

Morozko stared at him, cocking his head to the side, finally dismissing them with a flick of his hand.

Jenette took off, striding to the stairs, shortly followed by Drake.

"Jene, Jene!" He ran trying to catch up with her. Finally he reached out to grab her hand. "Vasquez! What the fuck was that!?"

She muttered. "A hell of a lot of sexual tension."

Drake sighed running his hand through his pale hair in frustration. "Yeah I can see that. Why haven't I heard about him? You usually tell me about all the guys you fuck."

Jenette closed her eyes, raising her hand to her temple, massaging it. "Just drop it Drake, let me just go win what I came here for."

He dropped it, but swore to bring it up again after this night, but right now he couldn't afford have Jenette's attention anywhere but on the fight she had to win.

Suddenly the music cranked to a halt, and from the floor they could hear a loud booming voice exclaim.

"Now for the moment ya'll been waitin' for, the fight of the night!" Cheering rose up with every word the announcer exclaimed.

Jenette and Drake took off for the ground floor, and pushed their way through the crowd of people to the center of the floor where a large, old metal cage rested. The announcer stood on it shouting at the top of his lungs.

"The winner of tonight's battle of supremacy will be awarded these." He pointed to a table laying beside the cage, while turning to look directly at Jenette. "Generously donated by our sponsor Morozko Tolstoy."

Right there sitting on the table guarded by Big Joe's huge ass was what those weeks of training were for: ammunition. Not just plain old ammunition, but all different kinds, the most prominent being the 12 practical magazines for Jenette's Browning Hi-Power.

**So Morozko is like Russia's Jack Frost, a great name for this frosty parsnip OC of mine, (his last name is Tolstoy because I love Leo Tolstoy for gifting this world with the amazing book that is War and Peace.)**

**He calls Jenette "Kotyonok", which means kitten in Russian, it is very affectionate, I want to work on his story a bit more, I like his character a lot, but why does everyone respect him so much? It shall be revealed, along with why they need the ammunition. **

**I can't wait to write this fight!**


End file.
